Shattered
by Brandi Heir
Summary: Sequel to Save the Hero. With her gone, how can life go on? Shattered warriors must move on for the realm. Sometimes, though, it's good to have help, a remembrance of a sacred soul. Songfic and Oneshot.


a reviewer wanted a sequel of save the hero and i couldnt resist. it's kind of long, i got really into it.

the song is shattered by trading yesterday, now called age of information but you dont get the right song with that name. anyway, i totally got into this. would have had it up earlier but family drama doesnt wait. so, enjoy!!! i know i did, ;p

P.S.

I want to thank **domsdirtysecret** for the encouragement to actually get off my butt and do this so it's thanks to her? him? that this is up!

_

* * *

Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding  
Fall into your sunlight  
_

The head stone was a stark reminder. She was dead, dead yesterday and their hearts would bleed tomorrow.

* * *

Neal wandered the library, trying to find a book to read. His fingers passed many, traveling down their spine but he couldn't pick one up. None of them could provide a distraction from reality. Not now. Not now that _she _was dead.

He stopped by a window that overlooked the pastures. Horses grazed in the fenced areas. They were oddly silent and Neal thought it had to do with the Wildmage. She wasn't in the best of spirits either. The birds weren't singing as happily either now that he thought of it. With a sigh, he turned to leave but something caught his eye. It may have been the lack of movement but he caught a glimpse of a brown and white coat.

"Peachblossom," he murmured and looked closer. The gelding was standing in the corner of the paddock, head drooping. He seemed so lifeless. As Neal watched, the hostler Stefan walked toward him with a bucket of oats. Clicking his tongue and shaking the bucket, he tried to entice the horse into motion but Peachblossom only turned away. There at least, Neal could relate to the horse.

Decided, he made his way down to the paddock. Peachblossom hadn't moved and Stefan was talking to another hostler in urgent tones. He didn't know what possessed him but he climbed the fence and walked determinedly toward the gelding.

"Milord," he heard voices call after him, urgent and worried. "That horse is mean clear through – Milord, please! You'll get hurt!"

"I know what I'm doing," Neal grumbled but he didn't really. He heard footsteps and shouts but he continued his way toward Peachblossom. The horse saw him coming and pinned his ears back, a warning. Neal approached and Peachblossom attacked. Neal, ready for the snaking head, jumped out of the way in time. Peachblssom pivoted and tried again. But Neal kept dodging. The shouts got louder and he heard someone call for a rope. They couldn't have that.

Neal stepped forward and grabbed Peachblossom's face between his hands. The horse was blowing hard but his ears weren't pinned back anymore.

"I know you miss her," Neal whispered fiercely. He had forgotten the wonderful feeling of horses, his own killed two months past. "I miss her too. It's like a hole isn't it? A hole that'll never be filled."

Peachblossom nodded and Neal swore he saw a tear at the horse's eye.

"It's awful, you know?" Neal kept going. "Knowing that she's never coming back." He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. "But we have to keep going, because that's what she'd want. You hear? _You got to keep going because that's what she'd want!"_

The tears fell like rivers now and Peachblossom nudged Neal toward him. Neal obeyed and hugged the gelding's neck tightly. They stood that way for a long time, Peachblossom's head resting on Neal's shoulder. Finally, Neal looked into Peachblossom's soft brown eye. "We'll keep going together, eh?"

Peachblossom nodded and a shattered warrior formed a bond with his new horse.

* * *

There was a future. It was open wide beyond believing. But somehow Owen couldn't see it. All he saw was the sun on the letter she had wrote him. Ever since the service, he had had a hard time getting up in the morning. Sometimes the weight of his grief kept him from his training. He'd been reprimanded more then once by Lord Wyldon but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Owen sighed and stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in. He needed to leave his room, move around a little, try and shove some life back into his limbs. He left his room and let his feet take him where they will. Nothing was jolly anymore, it was all empty, a world so hollow. He was suspended in a compromise that could never be reached. But somehow the sun set everyday. He _hated _it. How could the world keep going? _She_ was gone. There was no one to go bandit hunting with. No one to commit treason with to do the right thing. Stuck in his thoughts, he kept walking. When his toe caught on a door, he swore and looked up. For a moment, his brain froze and so did his heart. He waited until they worked again and took a deep shuddering breath. Owen found himself outside her door. It was closed, untouched since the day she died.

Suddenly, he understood if not on a conscious scale, subconsciously, why he was there and opened the door, preparing himself. Nothing could have prepared him, not even his soul.

It was like she was only gone for a moment and he almost expected her to pop up behind him, sweaty from her training with her glaive, toss her hair out of her face, and ask him what she could do for him. He sat down on the bed, where she had died, and let loss a torrent of sobs. It was all the emotion he kept up, balled tightly inside himself, when he had felt as if hope died.

Owen brought himself back under control and looked around. He felt sort of better and let his eyes roam the room. There was the griffin brooch Cleon had given her for Midwinter, the small glasshorse Roald had gotten her that looked like Peachblossom, and the bruise balm she had dabbed on his skin so many times. His eyes kept roaming – there the sword, her bow, her armor – until they fell on the glaive. It stood in a patch of sunlight, polished and clean. He was draw to it like a magnet. Carefully, he walked toward it and laid a hand on it. Deep down inside himself, he felt as if he was talking with her. He picked it up and tried a few passes with it. It felt made for him.

"I've got to try it out, do you mind?" He asked the remnants of her spirit. A small breeze passed through his hair and he grinned. "Thanks. This'll be jolly."

Holding it securely, he trotted with it to the practice courts, finally able to bring himself to train. And a shattered warrior formed a bond with his new weapon.

* * *

Roald and Shinko sat on their knees before a small table in Shinko's room. There were guards at every entrance and the room was light and airy but they felt nothing. There was none of the usual annoyance for having guards, no gentle satisfaction as a breeze cooled them, they were silent. A silence of sound.

Both felt so broken. Without her, they wouldn't feel comfortable with each other. They would have had the politest marriage ever. But then she had eased them, brought subjects to light that they both loved and through that, formed love with each other. Now, that she was gone, they felt as if a debt had never been paid.

"This isn't healthy, Shinko." Roald was the first to break the silence. "We shouldn't stay like this. The realm needs us to be strong." His voice cracked on the last sentence and Shinko nodded mutely.

"You're right. They shouldn't see us like this, it'll make them feel awful."

"We'll hide the pain then." Roald said. But they both knew that at the service, they would collapse and all they said now would just be talk.

They sat, staring at the table for a long moment, until a strong wind swept through the room and knocked over a vase. It fell to the floor and shattered. As the guards burst into the room, weapons ready, something skidded across the floor to hit Shinko on the leg. Roald sighed and stood up to sooth the guards, Shinko looked down. A _shukusen_ lay on the floor, cherry red silk on thin elegantly pierced steel ribs. It was her fan.

Surprised, Shinko picked it up as the servants arrived to clean up the mess. Roald led her to her room.

"That's odd," she said absently, turning it over in her hands. Roald looked at her, confused and tired from having to pretend nothing was wrong in front of the guards and servants.

"What?"

She held up the fan. Roald recognized it without being told. "I don't remember taking it out of her room."

She snapped it open and something clicked to the floor. This time, it landed by Roald's foot. He bent down to pick it up. Somehow, her Raven's Armory dagger had gotten stuck in the ribs. Roald picked it up and played with it in his hands.

"It's like…" He tried to say. But Shinko already knew.

"A piece of her is with us." She finished and sat down on the bed. Roald sat down next to her and she let the tears out, putting the month of grief behind her sobs. Roald cried with her.

From then on, they decided, Roald would wear her dagger and Shinko her fan. Two shattered warriors formed bonds with their dearest friend's symbols of deadly grace.

* * *

Merric walked along the rampart of the castle. He had taken to doing to night watch, trying to keep his mind from her death. Esmond, Seaver, and Faleron often joined him. They spent the night watching the stars and the day sleeping, keeping the thoughts, and grief, at bay. But they knew that the day after tomorrow, that would end. The service was scheduled for that day. He would never see her face again, never be reprimanded –

Merric swore and rubbed his face. He couldn't do this night. He went to his watch commander and told him he couldn't continue. The man said nothing but Merric caught a hint of pity in his face. It seemed that Faleron, Esmond, and Seaver hadn't shown up that night either. Merric went straight to his room. He didn't know how but he knew they would be there. And they were.

"Losing what was found, that's what happened." Faleron said as Merric strode in. "We found someone who didn't judge us on our blood, looks, or mind and we lost it."

"It's like all this is an illusion." Seaver said numbly from his seat at Merric's desk. "If this is a dream, Ganiel is a cruel master and I want to wake up more then anything in the world."

"It's not a dream, Seaver," Esmond muttered. "I'm in it too."

"So am I," Merric murmured. They looked at him and sighed. "We're all in it."

There was a knock on the door and Merric looked at them, confused. They all shrugged, the confusion written on their faces as well. He opened the door to a man carrying a large box.

"Merric of Hollyrose?" The man asked and didn't wait for a response before he walked in and put the box on the floor. "This is for you, have a good night." With that, the man left.

"That was odd." Esmond said slowly and then looked to the box. "What's in it?"

"No idea." Merric bent down and lifted the lid. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. It was _her _things. Things she knew they had loved. He lifted the bow and quiver of griffen fletched arrows out of the box with his name on them. Falereon received a horse's jousting gear, old ones but still in very good condition. Esomnd picked up a spear, his favored weapon, that was perfectly suited to his hand and height. On each was a bag of candy, her customary Midwinter gift.

"Should've known she'd have gotten Midwinter gifts already." Merric said gruffly.

Shattered warriors formed bonds with each other and their new weapons, once her own.

* * *

The service was, as predicted, hard for everyone. No one could say anything but in truth, no one needed to say anything. There was a surprising amount of people whom she had never thought were her friends. Zahir ibn Alhaz, Garvey of Runnersprings, and Joren of Stone Mountain's mother. Many conservatives showed up too, but for her friends, it didn't matter. It was easy to tell who they were. The agony and grief was so clear on their faces. Lord Raoul and Buri stood in as the parents, Raoul the closest thing she had had as a father after the fire at her home. Queen Thayet and King Jonathan stood with the two of them, providing comfort. Lord Wyldon was there with Margarry of Cavall. The girls who had followed her footsteps were there also, the death of their hero harsh upon them. Third Company of the King's Own had been given the day off and most had turned up there. Most of the town of New Hope made a special trip to pay respects to their former commander. Tears were shed that day and her death became a marked day on the calendar, to celebrate her deeds and early death, a tragic end to one who had done – and could have done more – so much.

* * *

Night had fallen. The service had ended and everyone was in bed. Everyone expect for Domitan of Masbolle. He was dressed in a russet red shirt and brown breeches, knowing that she would know it was his way of showing his mourning, through her favorite colors. In his pocket, he kept turning a box around and around with his fingers as he made his way out of the palace. Turning onto a lesser used road, he walked toward the grave yard. If only she had known. If only he hadn't kept silent, they could have had a future.

He was a few graves away when he saw a small figure kneeling before the headstone. His heart twisted when he recognized Tobe, her heir now a lord. He was sobbing, great tears of grief flooding down his face. Dom walked over and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. Tobe launched himself at Dom, clutching his shirt with shivering hands. Dom wrapped his arms around the boy, so much in need of comfort.

"She's gone, she's gone." He sobbed into Dom. "She's never coming back."

"I know," Dom murmured, heart twisting. He knew what he meant. "I know."

Tobe's sobs slowly receded and finally, he quieted.

"Were you going to tell her?" Tobe's voice sounded from the fold of Dom's shirt. Surprised, Dom looked down into Tobe's upturned face.

"What?"

"Were you going to tell her that you loved her?" Tobe asked again. Dom's heart, already hurt, ached in agony, and he settled for a nod. Tobe untangled himself from Dom and nodded. "Then you should. She loved you back, you know." With those horrifying words, Tobe walked away.

Dom could only stare after him before he turned to the grave. Kneeling, he pulled out the box. Clearing his throat, he began to speak.

"Kel, I-" Suddenly, the tears burst out of him. "Gods, Kel, why did you have to die? I wanted to do right by you. I wanted to marry you! I wronged you so much by waiting. It was wrong and I was wrong. But I was afraid, afraid you'd reject me. I never figured you would go for me. I wish I could go back in time, tell you everything!

I was going to tell you when we returned from the field. But then the healers told you and I couldn't bring you more pain. The pain of knowing what you could have had. It tore me apart to like you – no, _love_ you this way and have to see how much you didn't want to go. Nothing changes the fact that I was a fool but I wanted you to know." He fumbled for the box and opened it. The simple ring, fixed with a glittering emerald, glittered in the moonlight. "Kel, I love you and I give my heart to you. Even though, we never married, or became closer then friends, I wish we had. So, I hope Tobe was right, and you really did love me because from now on, I hope to be your husband." A warm breeze drifted by and wrapped around him. His eyes closed, Dom could almost feel her warm hands against his face and a phantom kiss on his lips. The rest of his words, too private to be said out loud, he said in his heart.

When he opened his eyes, he buried the box in the grave as his tears fell t the ground, slowly stopping.

"I love you, Keladry of Mindelan, more then words can express and I always will." He rose and made to leave but a glint of silver caught his eye. Her sword, Griffin, rested against the side of the headstone, softly gleaming in the moonlight. He was certain it hadn't been there before. Looking around, he knew he was the only one. A wind came up and died down. "Kel?" The wind blew then faded. Gulping, things were getting too supernatural for him, he took the sword in his hand and stood up. Glancing around, he began to speak again. "Before I go, I promise I will look after Tobe. I'd like to be the father he never had. I just wanted you to know that. I'll be back in a few days. Midwinter's coming up and I still haven't gotten you a present. Goodbye Kel, I love you."

He left with that, looking over the sword. A warrior formed a bond with his love, sword and woman together.

_And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand  
Why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love,_

_Without, love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on  
But I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning  
_

_Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart  
Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent  
All this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain  
All is lost, hope remains, and this war's not over  
There's a light, there's the sun, taking all shattered ones  
To the place we belong, and his love will conquer all_

_Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding  
Fall into your sunlight_

_

* * *

_

Wow, it seemed so much longer on Word. anyway, was it a sob fest? let me know what you though *hint hint, wink wink, nudge, nudge*


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